


Satellite

by PastelPencils



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, References to Depression, Space Stations, Swearing, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelPencils/pseuds/PastelPencils
Summary: Seifer is sent to an inescapable research base on the moon to serve a life sentence for his role in the war.  The sky is dark, the future is bleak, and his only salvation from endless boredom is his former rival, Squall Leonhart.Following the sealing of his Sorceress, there is little reason for Squall to keep up appearances.  His longing is destructive and her absence leaves him empty. The research base is the closest he will ever come to being near her again.  And Seifer is the only soul in the universe who could possibly understand.This is a tale of two former Knights who remain tethered to the Sorceresses that destroyed them. All things are inevitably connected, including the past, the future, and bonds that cannot be broken.
Relationships: Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart, Seifer Almasy/Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart, Seifer Almasy/Squall Leonhart
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Satellite

**.**

It’s bright as daylight on the surface of the moon but the sky above is obsidian spangled with glittery diamonds. There is no air, no atmosphere, but the monsters surround him and his companion, snarling and snapping and alive, independent of oxygen.

This is a mystery to Esthar’s scientists. It is but one of the reasons Seifer is here and it is a not an unwelcome one. He would go mad if he were required to serve his sentence in a 4x4 cell in Esthar’s underground max prison. Here he can kill with impunity. Here he has a purpose.

Even if that purpose is more or less that of a glorified exterminator.

His companion dispatches the last of the monsters and stops to stare up at the sky. It’s too early for her to fly by, but that never stops him from looking. Seifer could give him a hard time, but he gets it. He gets the pull she has on him. He’ll never escape it, no matter how hard he tries.

Seifer knows this because he can’t escape either. She pulls on him like the moon pulls on the tides. Now. Forever.

Always.

Seifer smacks him in the arm to get his attention. It’s time to head back. They’ve been out here a while and the oxygen tanks only last so long. It’d suck ass to run out of air in the middle of a fight and wind up suffocating 6 meters from the station.

His life sucks ass, such as it is, but he’s not ready to die.

Not like that.

They step into the air lock and Seifer’s ears pop when the doors close behind him. There is a moment of intense pressure in his head, and then the door to the lab opens. Seifer goes first, Squall a step behind to keep him from running.

Like he’d escape. There’s nowhere to escape _to_. They’re on the goddamn moon and there is no oxygen beyond the doors. Escape, no matter how much he thinks about it when he’s locked in his dorm room, would spell death.

He unclips the latches on his helmet and slides it off. Squall mirrors him and sticks both their helmets in the decontamination locker.

Squall’s eyes are as cold and lifeless as river stones. There’s no expression on his face. Not a trace of emotion.

They strip down to their underwear and head for the shower. It’s protocol. Just in case there’s some unknown bacteria or germs or some shit on them.

Seifer doubts that’s actually a thing. Tetanus is the only bacteria he’s ever heard of that doesn’t need oxygen to grow, at least he thinks it was tetanus. Biology wasn’t his best subject. Too many years have passed since his school days and there are gaps in his memory now.

For all he knows, moon germs are something he _should_ be worried about. How fucked up would it be to die of a space virus while locked inside a lab with no hope of survival or rescue? Like some bad zombie movie. 

Actually, a zombified Squall eating his face might not be the worst way to go. Better than suffocating.

Seifer thinks about death too much. Probably because he’s escaped it so many times that it’s inevitable that it will be something fucking stupid that finally kills him.

Hell, in this place, it’ll probably be boredom that does him in. Pest control is the highlight of his day. He'd welcome death by moon monster.

In the showers he turns on the water as hot it will go and turns his back to Squall and the guard. He uses the provided antibacterial soap to wash away the stale, gritty feeling off his skin. The temperature is uncomfortable, the soap harsh, but he appreciates the pain.

It reminds him that he’s still alive.

The dining hall is quiet when Seifer steps up to the counter and takes a pre-made tray. Meatloaf. Reconstituted potatoes. Overcooked green beans. It reminds him of meals at Garden. Garden makes him think of Raijin and Fujin.

The assholes.

Squall takes a tray of his own and barely looks at what’s on it. He follows Seifer to the table furthest away from the window and sits across from him.

They don’t talk. There’s nothing to say, but the silence is comfortable.

It ought to be. They’ve been stuck here together for over a year and everyone else is either one brain cell short of brain dead or they’re so intellectually superior, they speak a totally different language.

As expected, Squall stops eating halfway through his meal and his eyes drift toward the window. She’s out there, sleeping like some fairy-tale princess awaiting her prince. It would be romantic if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

Seifer understands where he’s coming from. The same emptiness eats at him, too. The same hatred consumes him, too. Neither of them will ever feel whole again.

“Cards later?” Seifer asks, like he always does.

Cool blue eyes turn slowly from the window and come to rest on Seifer. He nods once, pushes his tray away, and returns his attention to the sky, waiting.

She won’t make her appearance for another two hours.

Squall throws his cards down on the table and scowls. Seifer grins and admires his new card, one of Squall’s most prized, feeling victorious.

It’s not often he can beat Squall at Triple Triad. He doesn’t even like the game, it’s just a way to pass the time in a place where time has lost all meaning. It’s an excuse to be out of his dorm, where he is expected to be when not in the company of guards.

Technically, Squall counts as a guard, which is convenient for both of them. He’s still got a curfew, but so long as he’s not late reporting back and he stays out of trouble, nobody says dick about him hanging out in Squall’s room.

Seifer flicks his prize with his index finger, still gloating over the win, and Squall’s frown deepens.

“Easy with that,” he says.

“What do you care?” Seifer says. “It’s mine now.”

“It’s the only one like it in the world, you idiot," Squall says. “If you fuck it up, it can’t be replaced.”

“That’s more words in one sentence than you’ve said to me all week,” Seifer says. “Cumulatively.”

"Let's play again,” Squall says. “I want my card back. Undamaged.”

Seifer slips the Shiva card into his deck, which he slips into the pocket of his sweatpants.

"I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead."

“No. I want my card back."

“You want it back? Suck my dick,” Seifer says with a huge, teasing grin.

“You’re shit at cards. I don’t need to suck your dick to get it back.”

“You’re a sore loser, Leonhart. And a chickenshit.”

Squall rolls his eyes and gathers up his cards. He’s pouting, done for the night.

It’s almost time anyway. Seifer can feel her almost as acutely as Squall can. Her path never deviates, never wavers. She's always there, inescapable.

Squall puts his cards away and takes up his seat by the window. This is Seifer’s cue to leave, though curfew is more than an hour from now. Squall will sit by the window and watch the speck of Rinoa’s prison cross the night sky.

It’s masochistic and stupid and unavoidable. Seifer knows this because when he returns to his own room, he’ll do the same.

So why the fuck are they doing the same fucking thing alone? Longing for the same distant speck for different reasons?

“Got any beer?” Seifer asks.

Seifer’s technically a prisoner. He’s not allowed to drink but Squall waves a hand at the small fridge next to the bathroom door and draws his legs up into the plush, over-sized chair. He looks like a child, sitting like that. Moonlight reflects off the surface, bathing him in eerie, ethereal light.

“Grab one for me.”

Seifer takes a pair of bottles from the fridge and twists the caps off. He hands one to Squall and then slides into the other chair by the window and watches the sky, where Rinoa drifts like a slow moving comet across the night.


End file.
